Through the Universe
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: A collection of ficlets centered around Soujiro & Misao written from a set of eleven Alternate Universe prompts. Most Recent Prompt: Childhood Best Friends
1. Soulmates

**Author's Note: **I was given 11 AU Soujiro/Misao prompts so here I'll gather them all up for you to read at your leisure. :)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve rights to all OCs.

Pairing: **Soujiro x Misao**

Prompt: _Soulmates_

If there was one thing twenty-four year old Seta Soujiro clung to with all of his life, it was that no one could be truly happy. People could _think_ they were happy and they could, of course, fill their lives with material goods and/or experiences that gave a momentary, fleeting euphoria, but to achieve full happiness, a state of eternal bliss, the one thing that humans searched for day in and day out, well, it was bullshit.

This way of thinking was entirely contradictory to the way he lived his life, rarely without a smile, and never, _ever_ hinting that there could have been anything that might have burrowed its way into his heart, feeding and thriving on his very existence, blackening every piece of him that might have had a chance to pass itself off as a normal, functioning human being.

Masked behind a cheerful grin and a silver tongue, Soujiro's heart was completely devoid of everything. He wasn't cruel, perhaps not in a direct sense, nor was he a hateful man. He was simply. . .empty.

It was easy to live this way, he found. Nothing angered him, nothing excited him. There wasn't any risk of falling to his emotions or getting his hopes up only to be let down. He was neutral and completely at peace.

Well. Not completely.

There was but one detail, one small little aspect of his life that bothered him. It _confused him_. It was akin to hearing a couple notes in passing and spending an eternity trying to remember the song they belonged to.

He could have run from it. Hell he could have easily avoided it. But he didn't. He couldn't, and he also couldn't place why.

So here he was, again, laying on his back on the ledge of the rooftop of his apartment building. His left arm covered his eyes, shielding him from the afternoon sun while his other arm dangled off the ledge, swinging in the air some thirty stories above the busy, bustling streets of Kyoto.

He took a breath, clearing his mind and sure enough, within a couple seconds, an image appeared as it always did when he lay in this spot. It was a face, a face that looked so familiar to him, but at this point he was uncertain if the girl he was seeing looked familiar because he had actually seen her somewhere, or if he recognized her because he seemed to dream her up every day.

"You're going to die."

Though his reverie was broken, Soujiro didn't move. He didn't lift his arm or open his eyes. "No I won't."

He heard a female sigh, followed by tiny footsteps and when he felt a shadow come over his face, he knew that his intruder was leaning over him.

"You'll die if I push you."

He cracked a smile and chuckled, allowing his arm to slide off his vision. "Well I suppose you're right about that."

A foot on his stomach surprised him and his eyes snapped open, locking with hers. And then his breath hitched. He knew those eyes. He saw them every single day, looking into his own in this very spot. They were blue, a hue that matched his own. They were fierce, set with the determination of a young woman who knew little fear.

"You do exist," he breathed.

With a dissatisfied huff, Makimachi Misao lifted her foot, bringing it down upon Soujiro's chest this time. He grunted and grimaced, but made no move to defend himself. In fact, he wasn't doing much of anything but staring.

"Why are you stalking me?" she demanded, her mouth turned down in a deep frown.

With a surprisingly strong grip on her booted ankle, Soujiro lifted her foot from his chest, easing her back and sitting up. With a laugh and a friendly smile, he gave the back of his hair a little scratch.

"I'm not stalking you," he told her earnestly, "but what makes you say that I am?"

Taking a few steps back, Misao eyes him. "Don't lie to me. I see you. I _know_ you're following me!"

"I'm not following you," he repeated. "I swear this is the first time I've ever seen you." He thought on it for a moment and added, "in person, at least."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "You had _better_ start talking because I will not hesitate to smash your pretty boy face in, you creep!"

Soujiro blinked. Who _was_ this girl? She was younger than him he imagined, but not by much. She wasn't wearing a uniform so he supposed if she were still in school, she was a university student. Her long black hair was tied off in a long braid that she flipped over her shoulder, awaiting his defense. It seemed that she wasn't afraid of his supposed stalking, but annoyed.

"Might I ask you a question, Miss?"

Misao pursed her lips, shifting her weight with a hand on her hip. "No."

Soujiro sighed. "Why do you think I'm following you? Where exactly have you seen me before?"

For a moment, her frown faltered and her shoulders dropped. Her face relaxed and she stepped back again.

"I see you everywhere," she breathed, "Getting coffee, on the train, at the bank, at the convenience store, at the park, at _crosswalks_, in restaurants. I can't spend _one day_ without seeing you somewhere!"

Soujiro thought on this for a moment. While it was true that people with similar schedules and habits would most likely cross paths a few times throughout their lives, his life was hardly scheduled and her list was quite extensive.

"Where was I today?" he asked, his tone teasing as he put his elbows onto his thighs and resting his chin in his hands.

"This morning you bought a steamed bun at the convenience store around eight o'clock. Then you went to the police station at lunchtime. You were on the same train as me after my last class so I decided to follow you to finally confront you."

"It sounds more like you're stalking me," he chortled, taking great enjoyment in her unamused demeanor. She let out a low growl and he sat back on his hands, feeling the wind from the street below. "How long have I been 'following' you?"

She thought for a moment. "Since Christmas. Since the first time I saw you." she nibbled her lip, "at the graveyard."

Soujiro froze. He remembered that night. He'd spent his entire day by the graves of his adoptive parents. While his biological parents had been ruthless and abusive, after narrowly escaping his father's murder-suicide (which stole the life of his drug laden mother and his unborn sibling), eight year old Seta Soujiro had been adopted by a woman who had lived and understood his plight, and her husband, the most noble and honorable man Soujiro would ever know.

But they had been ripped from his side one Christmas Day when he was seventeen. It had been a burglary, a violent one. He knew the man had not only intended to steal the family's valuables, but to murder the occupants of the elaborate estate. To rain down terror upon the happiest day of the year.

He had been helping his father, the cheerful police detective Okita Soushi carry gifts down the stairs. Their family and friends would be arriving soon. They hadn't heard the intruder, but at the crack of the gunshot, both men let the boxes fall from their arms, dashing towards the sound. He remembered finding his mother's body crumpled up in the kitchen, a wooden spoon spilling from her hands and blood soaking up the silver satin of the dress he had bought for her.

Okita had pulled a knife from the block, spinning and scanning the open floor plan for the culprit. With open arms he shielded Soujiro.

"Take what you want!" he called out, "but don't touch my son."

His request was granted, but at the expense of his own life and as Soujiro watched his father fall to the ground, dead before him, the front door opened, and his uncle stepped into the house with his wife and three boys.

Saitou Hajime had been quick. Far quicker than the burglar and, without a chance to take out the family that had quite literally walked in on the murders, he landed on the floor with a quiet _thud_ and a snapped neck. _Self defense_, Saitou had said plainly, his jaw set and his eyes pushing down the sights before him.

Soujiro had gone to the therapy that had been suggested for him. He'd willingly sat in the hospital for weeks on end, but none of it did him any good. He knew it wouldn't and the truth was, he wasn't entirely certain he wanted it to. He'd watched the murders of yet another set of parents, this time, ones who had actually cherished him, and whom he had loved in return. He didn't want to be healed. He didn't want to forget them. So he locked himself away, adopting his emptiness philosophy and moved on with his life. He studied hard, worked hard, and did nothing more with his success than simply existed.

Yet now _she_ was here. This strange girl from his dreams. Had they truly been crossing paths every day since Christmas?

"My parents are buried there," he said softly.

She gave him a weak smile. "So is my grandfather."

"And I have lunch with my uncle every Thursday. He's an inspector."

"My brother is on the police force," she told him, "I go there to bring him tea because he works so hard he forgets to get it himself."

Soujiro stared at her. "I've been seeing you in my head," he said, the words tumbling out despite his efforts to keep them at bay. "Every day I see your face when I close my eyes."

Misao didn't know what to say to that. She thought back to her day and the days, weeks, months before it. Every time she saw him, no matter what sort of detour or avoidances she took, he was there. But the more she thought, and the more details she was able to recall, he never seemed to notice _her_. Could it have been that he had truly never laid his eyes upon her until this moment?

"Can I ask _you_ something?" she wondered, crouching onto the ground and picking up a stray piece of wire, drawing invisible pictures on the concrete.

"Of course," he welcomed with a smile.

"Do you believe in soul mates?"

Soujiro laughed. "I beg your pardon?"

"Soul mates," she repeated, standing and stamping her foot, annoyed and embarrassed at his reaction.

"I don't know," he said, smiling up at her, "It sounds a little silly. I think it's a nice concept for romantic books and movies to sell a lot of copies to young fantastical women, but I don't think there's any real truth to it."

He was patronizing her. With a low growl, she crossed her arms. "Don't you think this is _weird_?" she asked, "You haven't thought for a second that maybe something. . .something _bigger_ is pulling us together?"

Soujiro blinked. "Are you telling me you're in love with me?"

"No!" she cried, breathing heavily and making a small motion with her hands as if she were pushing the idea away. With a deep breath she calmed herself and spoke again. "But what do you feel right now? Honestly. I just want to know."

He paused, concentrating on himself. How was he supposed to answer that? He never felt _anything_. But then.

Wait.

He raised a hand to his chest, unbuttoning his blue dress shirt and then pressing a palm to the bare skin beneath it. He felt solid. He supposed he always was; he was a human being after all, but there was something inside of him that was _there_. Something completely intangible, yet warm and heavy, filling up his very being.

"I feel. . ."

She waited, her arms crossed again, an adorable display of impatience.

"I feel like I've been waiting for something," he replied, carefully, staring at his own hands, "Like I've been standing in line, or sitting at the bus stop for. . ._forever_ and now I'm not waiting anymore."

"Me too."

He lifted his head to look at her, and without much of a thought, stood up and took a step towards her. She didn't flinch or back away. She was watching him, but her eyes no longer bore the suspicion of an interrogator, but the curiosity and fascination of a young woman enamored.

"Does this mean you're not going to push me off my apartment building?" he wondered, lifting up the corners of his mouth as he closed the distance between them, encouraging her to uncross her arms, and taking her fingertips in his hands.

"I don't know what it means, but you're too close, you creep," she said, pulling back, but his hold was stronger than her resistance.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. It was abrupt and while he meant it, he also _hadn't_ meant it. It wasn't like him to go around kissing girls who had accused him of stalking, and then suggested perhaps they were soul mates instead. Then again, he supposed it wasn't like him to go around kissing anyone.

"_Excuse me_?"

"I'm sorry," he said, releasing her hands. "I'll go home." This day was far too strange. He needed a coffee. And possibly a nap. But perhaps not in that order.

He turned, and he could feel her eyes on him. They were angry again and it sent a chill through his body that he found himself enjoying. She was a cute girl, that he couldn't deny, but from what little tim he had spent with her, he found that while he lacked ambition and drive (a result of naturally excelling at anything he put his hands to), she was made up of passion.

Misao watched him leave. Every step he took the distance between them grew. It didn't matter, she thought to herself, she would see him again tomorrow. Several times, she imagined. Then her thoughts halted. What if she didn't? What if fate had given her these moments, this chance, and by throwing it away, she severed whatever tie she had with this man? What if he was right and there _was_ no such thing as destiny or soul mates? Perhaps it had all been a coincidence. Maybe it would all end.

No. It wouldn't. She wouldn't let it. She had gone too long not knowing and now that she had some semblance of a clue, she wasn't going to pass it up.

_Screw it_, she bit off to herself, adjusting the purse that hung from her shoulder. With a deep breath she marched towards him, and with a firm grip on his upper arm, spun him around to face her. Not allowing him any time to protest, she grabbed his tie, yanking him forward and crushing her lips against his. She wasn't going to let him go.

Soujiro's body went rigid for a moment, processing her actions, and then he felt electric heat shoot through his veins. His muscles relaxed and his hands found her body, one on the back of her neck, the other cupping her chin. He kissed her in return, tipping her back slightly and tilting his mouth into a grin as she moaned softly against him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his dress shirt.

He didn't know who she was, but he didn't care. She was his now, and there was something inside of him that wanted to give itself entirely to her as well. Whether or not he believed in the idea of souls and mates thereof, there was one thing that he knew with absolute certainty: He wasn't searching any more.

He had heard the notes, and now he knew the song.

And he would never forget the words.

**xxxx**

**Author's Notes:** Awww yay! That was fun. It was realy difficult though because I view the idea of soul mates the way Soujiro mentioned so when I got the prompt I was like, "uh... I don't know how to write that." but I hope I did well and you all enjoyed the result of that one! :)


	2. Childhood Friends

**Author's Note**: For this one I cheated a bit, taking a scene from one of my own original works that I've abandoned and tweaking it to fit SouMi because it is just... so fitting. :3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve rights to all OCs.

Pairing: **Soujiro x Misao**

Prompt: _Childhood Friends _

One upon a time, a time long ago, in a world not so different from our own, lived two children who would grow into very interesting people. There was Misao, who was very boyish, and her dearest friend Soujiro, who was not.

Seta Soujiro was, in fact, quite effeminate for a boy of his age. He had little interest in sport, instead choosing to fill his time with the forgotten romantic languages of another world: Italian and French. Neither of these would become useful to him as they were, well, forgotten and from another world.

His clothes were meticulous. Spotless. This of course, could not be said of his female counterpart whose boots were constantly traipsing mud, and it was quite possible she didn't own a single dress without at least seven tears.

That was why, while Misao scurried up their favourite tree without a care in the world, Soujiro removed all but his undergarments, folded them neatly, and set them in his pack so they would not be soiled when he was to return home for dinner.

"You could at the very least wait for me, Misao!" he called up to her as he undid the laces of his boots, careful not to pull them too quickly and wear them out.

"And what—" she shot back, swinging her bag up onto the next branch, "—would I do down there?"

"I don't know," he replied "talk to me? What difference does it make if we're down here or up there?"

Reaching her destination, Misao reached into her bag and pulled out an apple covered in chocolate and candy. She tossed her long, jet braid over her shoulders and peered down at her friend who was just now gripping the first branch.

"We've been over this a katrillion times. Being up in a tree is more of an adventure than just sitting down there on the ground."

"Yeah well we've been over _this_ a katrillion times, Misao," he grunted, pulling himself up, "katrillion isn't a number."

"It is if I want it to be."

When he finally swung his leg over the side of the branch she had delegated as 'their spot', Soujiro held out his hand and she smacked a candy coated apple into it.

"Do you ever get in trouble for playing with me?" she asked, smearing chocolate all over her small face as she took more of a bite than she could handle.

"By who?"

"I don't know. Your father?"

Soujiro laughed. "My father doesn't even know where I am unless I'm two feet in front of him. A distance I try my best not to come to, might I add. Besides, even if he did know I was here, he'd probably be happy I suppose."

"Is it because my family is richer than yours?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Misao's family was indeed quite a bit richer than Soujiro's. Her brother had recently inherited their family's fortune and with Misao being the only other Shinomori child, her dowry would undoubtedly be quite impressive. Her father, a duke, had worked his way up in society by being a good man, an honest man. He had married their mother not out of duty, but out of love, even after she had been shrouded in scandal; a false scandal.

When Misao was born, the duke had decided that city life was not family life. While his son, Aoshi, could thrive well enough in the city surrounded by things that gentlemen ought to do, he didn't feel the same about his daughter. He uprooted his family, staff, horses, dogs, and even the minister, and set up a quiet country estate to live on. A carriage accident stole the lives of both the duke and the duchess, leaving thirteen year old Aoshi to inherit and care for his younger sister.

Misao was three.

Running an estate at such a tender age, her brother began to disappear for weeks at a time, balancing his studies, social calls, and research into new endeavors to maintain the success of the Shinomori family.

As soon as she was old enough, Misao began to take liberties of exploring. Having authority over her maids and governess(es), she would vanish for hours at a time, usually in the woods climbing trees or splashing around in a stream. The adventures she created for herself mimicked the stories her brother would tell in the brief moments she could have with him.

When she was six she learned to ride. Any of the stable boys could challenge her to a race and she could leave them all behind in her dust. When she was seven, she discovered the world outside of the estate. It was then that she met Soujiro.

Though Soujiror's family was also of nobility, very few families could compare to the Shinomori family. In the case of the Setas, a family on the verge of bankruptcy, with not much more than a title and a few heirlooms to their name, the Shinomoris made them look like peasants. Needless to say, it did not please the baron, who had made it his life's work to appear far more wealthy than he was, when the family moved in just a couple miles down the road.

Neighbors.

Lord Seta, nearly Mr. Seta if he wasn't careful, had spawned many sons with Soujiro being the youngest and who, in his father's eyes was just about as useful and necessary as a lame horse. The Seta household was run with an iron rod, with the youngest son as the whipping boy. It was no surprise when Soujiro turned out to be missing quite frequently.

His days were spent mostly in the wooded areas on the very outskirts of the property. Soujiro had learned to read at a very early age; an escape of sorts. He would act out his favourite scenes by himself or with squirrels and mice, but never dirtying himself. He did not wish to answer to his father for something so trivial as dirty clothes.

When Soujiro was nearly run down by Misao's horse, he knew immediately who she was, where she came from and six generations of her family's history. Fascinated by his father's jealousy, he had made a point of studying the Shinomoris. What had surprised him was how dirty Misao was. One would think that a well bred lady would have taken a bit more care in her appearance, even at seven.

He liked that she didn't.

In the days and months to come, as their automatic friendship developed into an inseparable union, he found that he liked most things about her. And now, sitting on that big tree in nothing but his undergarments, eating a candied apple, he decided it was time to take their relationship to the next level.

"I believe I am in love with you, Misao."

Misao stared at him blankly, her sapphire eyes bored, and her mouth turned down. "Soujiro you're ten."

"I-I know th-that!" he stammered in his defense.

"And I'm nine," she pointed out.

"J-just listen to me, Misao!" he cried, waving his arms. His apple rolled from his sticky hands and he exhaled in disappointment as he watched it tumble down the tree, gathering bark and bits of moss before coming to a stop atop an orange and brown leaf. It was only a matter of time before the ants feasted.

"I'm going to marry you someday. Someday when we're bigger and we can attend balls in the city. I'll buy you all the jewels and furs you want."

Misao raised an eyebrow. "With your giant fortune?"

Soujiro scratched the top of his head through beautiful blue-black locks. "I'll find a way to make money," he vowed, "and when I do, I'll marry you. I love you."

Misao pulled back her arm and threw what was left of her apple deep into the woods. It burst against an oak.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, "prove it."

"Okay I will," he said, blue eyes daring her own to back down. "I'll give you my soul that I love you."

Misao let a small laugh escape through her nose. "Don't you mean you'll give me your word?"

"No," said Soujiro, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I give you my soul."

Then, in an awkward ten year old sort of way, he kissed her. It wasn't romantic, it wasn't sweet, it wasn't anything like the poems he had read. He'd have to practice.

"Oh my God!" yelled Misao, pushing him away. "Sou that's so gross!"

Practicing would have to wait.

"No need to blaspheme," he mumbled, wiping his mouth.

Misao spat onto the tree and Soujiro grimaced. Such a lady. "Oh- oh Sou how _could_ you?"

He grinned. "That was your first kiss. It belongs to me. You have to marry me."

"Sou, do you know what that can lead to?"

He shrugged.

"Babies!"

He gasped.

Then, collecting himself, he leaned forward. "Naw. That's not how it's done, is it?"

Misao sat back, biting her lip. "I don't know actually. I think kissing has something to do with it, that's why we're not allowed to until we're married, right?"

Soujiro grinned again and began to climb down from the branch. "I don't know, I guess we'll have to see when we get married, won't we?"

While he was getting dressed, she leaned forward. She had no intention of going home just yet. While Soujiro always made a point of being home before his father made his rounds of the grounds to secure a good hiding spot, Misao stayed out of the house until just before dark. There was no particular reason for it, she just enjoyed dusk.

"So you really want to get married?"

"Of course I do," he replied, tugging on his boot laces. 'I gave my soul on it."

Soujiro hurried through the tall grass that bordered the forest surrounding both the estates of both his and Misao's families. The sun was setting later, as summer was on its way and he was glad for that. His father paid little attention to time itself, instead charting his daily course by the sun. The longer the sun stayed high in the sky, the longer Soujiro had to himself.

He hadn't been joking with Misao. He did believe to love her and he had every intention of marrying her. It was not only for his sake, but for the sake of his family. He knew his mother and father did not love each other, but he was quite certain his mother would be much happier if she had fewer financial worries. She would no longer be subject to her husband's temper, and perhaps more importantly, to Soujiro at least, they would be able to put him through proper schooling.

Marrying Misao would pull them out of all their debts.

The proper thing to do would be to ask permission from her brother. That would have been much easier if her brother would ever come home. His offer might be taken into more serious consideration were he older and of a larger fortune. His age and fortune, however, were two factors over which he had no control. What he _did_ have was a higher education than most boys his age due to his obsessive reading, and an impeccable appearance, both of which he considered to have an advantage on age and fortune,

He was, of course, only ten.

Luckily, the duke was at home for the time being, and Soujiro decided to take the opportunity to propose his first, well, proposal. It wouldn't shock him over much if he was rejected, but he was determined to ask again and again, every year if he needed to, before Misao's hand was granted to him.

Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the setting sun, putting his back to his usual path home. He wouldn't go home, not just yet. Taking his father's beatings would be worth it today. Today he would secure his future.

**xxxx**

Misao dangled from the closest branch to the ground, wiggling the tips of her boots and looking to the treetops as if she were a hundred feet off the ground instead of three inches.

"It's too dangerous, Miss Shinomori!" she cried, entering her made up world of adventure, "you mustn't go!"

"Oh but I must!" she yelled, forcing out some grunts of pretend struggle. "Soujiro needs me!"

She swung herself onto the ground, rolling in the leaves and grabbing hold of a stick. "I'll kill the beast with _this!_ This is the magical sword of the faeries. It will protect us both!"

"Oh but Miss-"

"Nevermind, Himura!" she cut herself off as she began to run towards her house, "I have never failed before and I shan't now!"

It felt wonderful, the spring evening and its breeze. She had her entire night planned out. She would fight the giant beast after it trapped her in the stables, then she would haver her victory dinner. Soujiro wouldn't be present of course. The day's trauma of being taken by the monster was simply too much for him to handle and he was in bed recovering. The beast of course had a treasure that he had hidden somewhere in her house. Tonight would be the night she went hunting for it, now that its guardian had been slain. After that, a bath. Climbing trees and slaying evil was a dirty job. It was also an exhausting job, so after her bath, Misao the adventurer would become Miss Misao Makimachi Shinomori, read a story, and go to bed.

Life was perfect. Getting married might change that.

She stopped, putting her dirty fingers to her lips. Soujiro had kissed her up in their tree. Had she enjoyed it? Of course not. No nine year old in their right mind enjoys kissing. But her kiss belonged to Soujiro now. Her kiss belonged to Soujiro _forever._ She'd never get it back because it would always be his. The thought set off the butterflies in her stomach.

Did she want to marry him? The thought had never occurred to her. She had grown up in the country playing, not in the city following fashions and gossip so naturally she had no access to the romances and views of polite society. The idea of love was obvious. The idea of romance, not so much. At nine years old, she had never realized that the two went hand in hand.

So the question was still in the air. Did she want to marry Soujiro? Did she like him in that sort of a way? _Could_ she? He was her best friend. He taught her about old worlds, he read her poetry. He was a pirate with her, he was her sidekick, she was his damsel in distress. Was that love? Yes, she supposed, as she started walking, all thoughts of the giant beast forgotten. Yes, that must be what love was. If love and marriage meant playing with Soujiro for the rest of her life, why shouldn't she accept?

**xxxx**

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for reading that one~ Please tell me what you think!


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